


letting you closer (is a risk worth taking)

by slashsailing



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bulimia, Developing Relationship, M/M, Pre-Slash, Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:38:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashsailing/pseuds/slashsailing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Jim struggles with his eating disorder his relationship with Bones begins to take a romantic turn which forces Jim to have to consider confessing everything he's tried so hard to keep hidden to the doctor. Can he do this, and, in the end, will he have to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	letting you closer (is a risk worth taking)

He digs the heels of his hand into his eyes and sees white phosphene flashes; he presses down a little harder to try and force his headache away. The dizziness abates but his thighs are still trembling, nerves and muscles quivering from the strange, but all too familiar, exertion on his body. It’s taxing, apparently, even though physically it’s nothing more than kneeling down on the cold, spongy lino. He exhales, stands and turns the tap off, before turning it on again and scrubbing furiously at his already wet fingers, cold from repetitively rinsing them. He notes the indentation of his canines and scrubs harder, trying to ease away the redness but failing.

When he looks up into the mirror above the sink he sees blotchy pink cheeks and dark purple under-eyes. His usually clear eyes are bloodshot and the blue irises are now startling in comparison. But he feels empty, and that makes him feel calm. He washes his face with soapy water, cold at first. So cold. To counter the heat in his cheeks. But as he skin starts to feel slightly rough he turns the tap-head the other way and wets the flannel. He rings it first before pulling it over his face. This heat is nicer than the earlier flushes, it’s soothing. 

When he looks in the mirror this time he feels more like himself. He inhales deeply, holds it for a moment, and then lets it out. He feels normal again.

He nods at his reflection and offers himself a distinctly Kirkian smile: it’s bold and charming; it fools everyone, maybe even himself.

“Jim!” comes the call from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Yeah?”

“Just got in,” Leonard says, “I’m gonna make dinner, you hungry?”

Jim looks at his reflection one more time and frowns at himself in warning, makes himself look at the porcelain toilet bowl: an additional punishment.

“No thanks,” Jim calls back, “already ate, just gonna take a shower.”

“Okay, kid,” Leonard replies, seeming happy enough with Jim’s answer.

Jim strips, taps the shower controls before sitting on the stall floor and letting a new wave of numbness fall over him.

He waits about twenty minutes before crawling out of the shower, towelling himself dry and brushing the fur off of his teeth.

He’s definitely Jim Kirk when he looks in the mirror this time. He looks brighter, eyes less blood shot, irises seeming less glossy and tired.

He pulls on the sweatpants that he’d left in there that morning and heads back out to face Bones, who’s eating pasta and reading something on his PADD. .

“I’m gonna go for a run,” Jim says.

The smell of fresh tomato is stifling. It’s sickening; and maybe he’d vomit again, if he had anything left to bring up.

#

His run takes him off campus, through the park and back around to the front admissions building, then he heads to Gaila’s and they do their Dilithium Mining and Usage assignment together before Jim heads back to his own dorm.

“I ate again at Gaila’s,” he lies, unnecessarily so – like it’s a compulsion.

“That’s a terrible innuendo,” Leonard smirks, turning the news feed on his PADD off and rolling his eyes at Jim’s grin.

“Not like that,” he scoffs, “I mean food.”

“You’re a pig,” Leonard snorts, “don’t know where you put it all.”

“I’ve got my secrets,” Jim says softly, eyes flicking towards the bathroom subconsciously. Today’s a shitty day, Jim thinks, guilt and resentment starting to set in. “I’m gonna head to bed,” he continues, changing out of his sweatpants and pulling one of his comfier jumpers over his head before burrowing under the duvet.

“Lights ten percent,” is all he hears Leonard say.

#

It was the first meal he ever ate on the aid-ship that took the Tarsus survivors back to Earth. He wolfed it down because he was starving, even though the aid-workers and medical advisors had told the kids to eat slowly, just until they started to feel full. He didn’t feel sick when he’d finished. Not at first. But he’d felt heavy: too full and bloated; and he felt  _guilty_. Guilty because in that moment, with a tray of hot foot perched on his lap, he had forgotten all those kids that would never leave Tarsus, whose emaciated bodies littered the red soil and would soon be nothing more than carcasses in mass graves.

Then he felt sick.

But it wouldn’t happen. He rushed into the bathroom and just stood there. Waiting.

So he made it happen. He was only fourteen years old the first time he made himself sick. He’s twenty four now and he can’t make himself stop.  _Fourteen._  Too young to know what he was doing would end up controlling his entire life. Too innocent to realise the way he was thinking was wrong. And now it’s too late.

Sometimes he goes for days without eating. He counts calories compulsively. He works out until his ribs hurt and his lungs feel like tightening clamps inside his chest. But it can’t last. He’ll start with something relatively innocuous: an apple; then a breakfast bar maybe; a piece of Bones’ wholemeal toast; two boiled eggs… It quickly spirals. Sandwiches, crisps, biscuits, a pizza, half a carton of ice-cream, Bones’ leftover rice dish from the night before…

He can’t help himself. He’s so hungry. And he starts but he can’t stop. He just eats and eats and eats until he feels just as awfully full as that first time when his malnourished body couldn’t take the speed at which he ate. Just as awfully guilty.

And then comes the inevitable purge. The forceful push of three fingers down his throat. The gagging. Chunks of food hitting the water, sometimes splashing back up the toilet bowl or onto his cheek or the back of his hand.

Sam caught him once, and Jim had to pretend he was trying to get the day off of school.

Sam just rolled his eyes and shook his head and let it go.

Frank also caught him once, but he had given Jim bruises for attempting truancy.

Leonard hasn’t caught him though and he won’t, _ever_ , if Jim has anything to say about it.

He rarely ever does it when Leonard’s home, but if he does he runs the shower. He can use the portable regenerator in the medicine cabinet on his knuckles when they get bad and he goes to the dentist regularly to try and keep his oral hygiene at its best. The enamel on his molars isn’t the greatest but it’s an easy enough fix nowadays.

It’s his choice. His life. His cycle.

And Bones can’t find out because that throws a spanner in the works that Jim isn’t ready to deal with. Leonard is too unpredictable for Jim to guess how he’d react to his. He’s a doctor, one with a psychology doctorate, no less; he’d probably make Jim see a counsellor. He’d try and make Jim stop.

But he can’t.

He’s tried recovery over the years, in bouts. It doesn’t work. Not for him.

He needs this.

#

Jim marks the incremental changes in his and Leonard’s relationship. The first few weeks at the Academy they were friends out of necessity, but it soon became clear, even with their vastly different life experiences, they had a lot in common or were, startlingly, very complementary personalities. They became best friends; because they wanted to and it worked not because they had no one else – that was no longer the case as the first semester drew to a close. Leonard learnt to open up again, shedding his alcohol scented gruff exterior and thriving now that he was allowed back into a hospital, which was good for Jim, he had to adapt too and branch out. Making their own friends apart from each other seemed to only make their own friendship stronger. It’s their second year now, though, and Jim thinks things have changed a little more.

Their friendship verges on intimate. It walks a fine line sometimes, and Jim’s pretty sure if Bones doesn’t kiss him soon he’ll go insane.

It makes him panic, though. He’s never really dated anyone before. He never wanted to get too close. He likes his own space, he likes distance. But Leonard makes everything different. Bones is warm Sunday evenings with the sun streaming in onto the back patio. Bones is home and Jim doesn’t want to run away.

Sooner or later he’d have to tell Bones, though. Jim’s not sure he can face that.

#

The day Bones finds out about Tarsus is the same day Bones walks in on Jim with three fingers scratching against the back of his throat. It’s the day Jim’s world comes crashing down around him and nothing he can do will make it any worse.

Jim doesn’t get off the bathroom floor for a long time and Bones just stands in the doorway, eyes wide with shock. Uncomprehending. It’s a lot to take in, Jim supposes. His kind-of-boyfriend is one of the only survivors of mass genocide and bulimic to-boot.

"I don’t understand," Bones says after a while, sounding numb and confused. 

"It’s nothing," Jim says immediately; an instinct. 

"How long has this," Bones shakes his hand at the toilet, can’t bring himself to finish the question. 

"Since they picked us up from Tarsus," Jim admits, wiping residue bile from the side of his mouth, raising a shaky hand to the flush button, “I can’t-”

Bones automatically steps forward, places his hand into the crook of Jim’s arm, guides him to the sink so Jim can compulsively scrub spit and vomit from under his fingernails. 

"I’m sorry," Jim says – it sounds pathetic to his own ears, but Bones holds his hips a little tighter. 

"Don’t be sorry," Bones counters, "not to me, you be sorry for you," he continues, "this’ll kill you Jim, this isn’t good for you, you gotta know that." 

"I’m fine," Jim says, licking the lower chap of his lips; they’re red and raw and stinging. Bones passes Jim a towel for him to dry his hands with, pressing the pad of one thumb into the crescent shaped bite around Jim’s index and middle finger knuckle. 

"Don’t do that," Bones says, "don’t shrug this off." 

"What do you want me to do?" 

"I want you to  _talk_  to me,” Bones huffs, “I want you to  _want_  to stop.” 

"You think I don’t?" 

"I think you don’t know what you damn well want," Bones admits, trying to reign in his anger. 

"You’re right," Jim shrugs weakly, defeat lies heavy like a lead weight in his voice. “I can’t stop, Bones, I-” 

"C’mere," Bones murmurs, pulling Jim into a tight embrace, holding him as Jim tries to hold in tears. "We’ll work this out," he promise, kissing Jim's temple. 

“ _We_?” Jim questions, though it’s muffled against Bones’ chest. 

"I’m not goin’ anywhere, Jim,” he promises.

And Jim believes him. 


End file.
